The Negotiator

Finale: Part 1

Hope and Turner walk into the saferoom of the Harlem Ultracomplex. Draven is sitting on a chair, wounds wrapped in white bandages across his chest, and arms. He stands upon their arrival and winces at the pain.

"Draven, Pulse is dead." Hope says to him bluntly.

His face reads shock. He fumbles into the wall behind and slides back into his seat.

"How?"

"He killed himself." She replies walking over to him. She puts his hands on his face.

"He came in for interrogation. He slammed his head against the table till' he died. He didn't want to say a word to anyone." Turner explains holding his hand. "I need to go to a hospital." He says.

"You're hurt?" Draven asks.

"Broken hand I think. I tried stopping his head but it just slammed my damn hand so hard." Turner says looking at the red and purple hand. It's swollen, and disfigured. "Hopefully it's not too fucked."

"Jesus." Draven says closing his eyes.

"I'm sorry, baby." Hope says kissing his cheek.

"It's okay." Draven runs her hair behind her ears. "Let's finish what we started."

One Month Later
"Androids have put on demonstrations across the country." A news reporter states. "Peaceful protests with many ending in death of many androids. However, these also sometimes include human casualties. We have Liz Demarco joining us to shed some light. Liz?"

The show fades Liz's face.

The reflection of the screen shimmers in Draven's eye as he sits in the saferoom. Androids behind him draw mappings and plans on a table.

"Humans are dying!" She yells bluntly. "Not androids, not machines, people! Yet they're ignored by the media and ignored by the police and are written off as casualties! The thing is, we are not at war, we are at odds, and there is a difference!"

"A skirmish, not a war." Draven says to himself.

"We can't ignore the presence of androids, and we certainly can't write off their sense of life-"

"Can I ask, what life do they have Liz?"

"The same as us, Shelby! The same as us. They breath, they speak, they fight, but most of all they think, freely, and at their own will! We have fought injustice in America for centuries, and each time we have fought for equality! In the 1960's with the civil rights movement, the 2000's with the peak of gay rights, and the 2050's with the great immigrant proposal, all under the same light. We're all human. We're all equal. And androids are no different."

"Except they are, Liz. Androids are not human."

"They may as well be. Most androids I've met and spoken to are more human than some people I've met! They are sentient and intelligent and they can't be ignored."

Draven stands up and turns to the androids.

"It's time." He says to the androids.

They nod. One stands on the left side of the table, facing the wall of monitors. Draven puts on his mask and hood, and stands in front of the wall. Draven closes his eyes and focuses on tapping into the broadcasting system of all TV's and screens across New York City. He links it to the android across the table. The wall behind him starts to glitch and light up. Those screens, and all the screens across the city now display Draven.

"Thank you Liz for the kind words." He starts with a distorted, deep voice. "Androids aren't to be ignored anymore. Can a machine that makes your car, or dispense your food, speak the way I am now? Can a machine that washes your clothes feel the way I do for my people? Can a machine that takes care of your plants create, love, think, and have emotion freely as we do? If we are machines why are we sentient? If we are machines why are we alive? If we are machines, why were we made to be different, but the same as you? I ask these with an answer. We can do these things, we can feel, and we are equal because we are alive. Like your dog at home, or your brother, sister, or mother, we are alive. We are free minded. I want this to be a message of will. A message that shows you we are done being headlines for an article. We are done being entertainment for the masses. We are done giving free shows of death to those who watch. We are done sacrificing our lives, and yours for a cause that has led nowhere. We will have one, final demonstration. The location will be Times Square. The date will be tomorrow, and the intention will be to stand, and for one last time, stand for our rights. Should more of us die we will no longer be idle machines for you to murder. We will take your technology by storm, and we will be able to control the country. We will not kill, but we are not afraid to fight. President Clarke, I speak to you directly. Help us. Let us be equal. Provide us with equity. Give us our rights! We hold these truths to be self evident, that all androids are created equal, that they are endowed, by you, our creator, to certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." He guides his hand to his head. "Find it not in here," he slides it to his heart. "But in here to give us what we want. Thank you."

The screens blackout, and read the words we are alive across the screen, with a countdown of 24:00:00 beginning to tick down.

23:45:17
"President Clarke." Hope says standing from her chair in the director's office.

Clarke walks in and takes a seat. "What do you think?"

"Excuse me, ma'am?" Hope asks.

"You've had the most contact with androids than any other person for months. Solved a case with the worst of them. No one in any damn building in all of DC can say the same. So what do you think? Are the machines alive?"

"Permission to speak freely?" Hope asks.

"Permission granted."

Hope takes a seat. "There isn't a doubt in my mind that each and every one of them has a soul and a mind like any of us."

"Fuck." Clarke says putting her briefcase down. "I was hoping you'd say the opposite. If they hack into all the systems. Bank accounts, Wall Street-" she pauses a moment. "Nuclear Launch codes. They'll get fucking everything."

"What will you do?" Hope asks.

"Wait and see. This last protest they have. It'll be their chance to convince us, and they know it. We're not just listening anymore. The whole god damned country is now."

"I hope we do listen, and not hear." Hope tells her.

"I have lots to do." Clarke says standing.

Hope stands as well.

"Thank you for your input." She says extending her hand.

Hope shakes it.

"Hopefully we make the right call." Hope says to her.

"Or god help us all." Clarke replies walking away.